


When Emile Was...

by shnuffeluv



Category: Cartoon Therapy (Web Series)
Genre: Coming of Age, Gen, Hospitalization, Sexism, Suicide Attempt, Trans Dr. Emile Picani, Trans Male Character, Transitioning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22673929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shnuffeluv/pseuds/shnuffeluv
Summary: When Emile was six, he learned the first thing that ever knocked him off his feet. And then the realizations just kept coming
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24





	When Emile Was...

When Emile was six years old, his mother made him wear a dress to a church he had never been to before. There was a wedding, between his uncle and soon-to-be aunt, and according to his mother, he had to dress up nicely. He looked around at the church and noticed some of the boys around his age wearing suits. He pointed at them and asked why he couldn’t wear a suit like that. His mother shushed him and told him that he couldn’t wear a suit because he was a girl. When Emile was six years old, he learned that others thought he was a girl.

When Emile was seven years old, he had to go to the bathroom at school. He never had to pee at school before, because he hated public bathrooms so he always cut back on how much he drank. But it had been hot that day, and he had drank more water than he thought, and he had to  _ go. _ When his teacher allowed him the bathroom pass, he reached for the blue one automatically, only to have the teacher clear his throat and tell him he had to take the pink one. When Emile was seven years old, he learned that he would only be allowed in the girls’ bathrooms.

When Emile was eight years old, he wanted to try out for baseball. His mother said that he would never be able to keep up with the boys, but if he wanted to try, she wouldn’t stop him. He practiced and practiced, running and catching and doing everything he could to make sure he was accepted. The day came for him to try out, and all the boys jeered at him as he put his hair in a ponytail and grabbed a bat. The pitcher threw the ball, and Emile knocked it out of the field, sprinting around the bases and getting the only home run of the day. Despite this, the coach didn’t put him on the team, saying that he wasn’t going to be coaching a girl on how to play with the boys. When Emile was eight years old, he learned that being a girl could be a bad thing.

When Emile was nine years old, he got in an argument with his dad. He had wanted to help his dad fix the car, but his dad had brushed him off, claiming that it was “men’s work” and Emile wasn’t equipped for it. Emile said that he might not be a man yet, but he still wanted to learn how to fix a car, and his father went still. He was asked what he meant by “yet.” Emile didn’t know how to respond. His dad said that he couldn’t grow up to be a man, he was a girl and that meant he would be a woman. When Emile was nine years old, he learned that he couldn’t just choose to be a man.

When Emile was ten years old, he was sitting in a class with all the girls at school, as the teacher at the front of the class explained what puberty was and what would happen. Emile was beyond dismayed. He didn’t want any of the blood from periods, or have to pick out bras because of breasts. He raised his hand and asked if there was any way to get out of puberty. The teacher laughed, as did a few of the students. He was informed that puberty wasn’t as bad as it sounded, and he would learn to appreciate womanhood. When Emile was ten years old, he learned that he was doomed to hate his body.

When Emile was eleven years old, his chest started to hurt whenever he accidentally bumped into things. His mother took him to the department store and showed him some “training bras” that she told him might help while his breasts started to grow in. Emile burst into tears in the middle of the store. Inconsolable, he exclaimed that he didn’t want this, that he didn’t want breasts, that it hurt and it wasn’t fair that his chest couldn’t stay flat like the boys’. His mother just said that he would grow used to it, and he would probably even  _ love _ his breasts one day. Emile knew that was a lie. When Emile was eleven years old, he learned that no one would ever listen to him.

When Emile was twelve years old, he started bleeding on one of the school chairs and he couldn’t stop it, no matter what he tried. He was sent to the nurse, and the nurse gave him a pad and he had to wait for his mom to bring a change of underwear and pants. He was in tears from his abdomen cramping, and he couldn’t stop the blood, and the nurse said that his period would probably hurt the first couple times, but it would come more regularly, once a month, eventually, and Emile felt his stomach sink at the thought of having to live with this every month. When Emile was twelve years old, he learned that no matter what he tried, he would always hate some part of his body.

When Emile was thirteen years old, he got to high school and paid one of the seniors to cut his hair short. When his parents saw him, they were furious, but he couldn’t stand to have his hair long anymore. He tried to explain to his parents, but they insisted that he had to grow it out again, no matter how much he would rather have it short. When Emile was thirteen years old, he learned that he had no say over how he presented himself to the world.

When Emile was fourteen years old, he tried to commit suicide. He had tied the bed sheets into a noose, and wrapped it around his neck when his mother walked in and screamed. He was carted off to the hospital, diagnosed with depression and suicidal ideation, and he told the doctor asking him questions he didn’t want to be alive, if that meant he had to be a woman. The doctor looked at him long and hard and asked him if he wanted to be a boy, and he tearfully nodded. The doctor used a word that Emile had never heard before, but opened up a whole world to him. When Emile was fourteen years old, he learned what the word “transgender” meant.

When Emile was fifteen years old, he came out to his parents. He told them what the doctor had said in the hospital, and that after looking things up, he realized that he was trangender, and nothing was going to change that. His father took it poorly, saying that he had to be a girl, that people couldn’t just change their gender simply because they wanted to. But his mother made his father shut up. She took Emile’s hands and asked him if he would want to be a man. He nodded, and said that was what he had wanted for years. When Emile was fifteen years old, he learned that he could have support even when transgender.

When Emile was sixteen years old, he got his first binder. When it had become clear that his breasts had stopped growing, his mother had gotten it for him, and he had cried when putting it on. For once in his life, he actually looked like a man. His hair short, his voice just low enough to be androgynous, and his chest flat, he looked exactly how he wanted. He hugged his mother tight and thanked her profusely. When Emile was sixteen years old, he learned that change was possible.

When Emile was seventeen years old, he got his first packer. It took lots of practice, but he learned how to use it to stand when he peed, and how to carry it so it didn’t look like he had a perpetual boner. The school, after receiving a note from his psychiatrist, let him use the boys’ restrooms. And while some of the students jeered at him, or threatened him, he was always careful, and he made sure that he was safe in the restrooms. And he was finally allowed to be one of the guys. When Emile was seventeen years old, he learned that if he was careful, he could live life as a trans person without much issue.

When Emile was eighteen years old, he went to the endocrinologist. They took his blood and consulted his medical records and his GP, and they gave him a prescription for testosterone. He wasn’t thrilled about the needles, but slowly, his voice grew deeper, and his body changed more to his liking, and he would cry tears of joy when he looked in the mirror and saw a man looking back at him. When Emile was eighteen years old, he learned that no matter what happened, he would always be a man.

**Author's Note:**

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